Game of Thrones - The Story of a Young Warrior
by Snek
Summary: When people get taken from you, you make sure you get revenge.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

His brown eyes focused on the sharp teeth of the white wolf. He was trapped between the beast and a tree in the darkness of the cold night. He thought of ways to get away from the dangerous looking animal, but his mind was on the wolf itself.

With slow movement he took his throwing knife out of a secret small pocket in the lining of his green cloak. The wolf noticed the slight movement, but didn't move. His eyes still on the face of the boy.

Moran didn't want to kill the wolf by throwing the sharp steel knife into the body of the creature, but it looked like he had no other choice. He wasn't a murderer. He only killed when people asked him and paid him a good amount of gold. Fact was that no one paid him to kill the wolf.

They stood there without moving an inch. The first one to move, was almost certain of his dead. Moran had the advantage of his throwing knife. The wolf on the other side was quick enough to bite the boy before dying.

An arrow hit the tree behind him and the wolf seized his chance. The white animal drove his teeth to the bone of Moran's right leg. Screaming from pain he pierced the throat of the wolf with the knife. The wolf died within seconds, but his teeth remained in the leg.

Moran couldn't walk. He crawled away, dragging the wolf with him. A rustling sound came from the bushes where the arrow came from. Two young men walked towards him. One had a bow. The other held his shiny sword in his scarred right hand. The scars came from fighting in the war.

"You entered our lands without permission." the swordsman said with a strong voice.

"I need no permission to walk around in a forest." Moran protested.

He moved a little, followed by an arrow pointed at his head.

"Lay still, or we kill you."

"If you don't do anything, I'll die too, so what's the point of listening to you?"

"Why are you walking within the borders of our lands?"

"I won't tell you. Even when you penetrate my head with those arrows I stay silent."

If the two men wanted to know what he was doing in the forest, they had to capture him. They had to be quick enough, else he bled out due to the bite wound.

"We take him with us. We bring him to my father." the man with the sword said to his friend.

He gave his bow to the older looking man and walked up to Moran. He didn't remove the corpse of the wolf. If he did, the boy was dead before they came home. Now they had a chance of letting him live.

They were in need of a person like Moran. A man far from here had to be killed, but they couldn't do it themselves. They needed someone nobody knew. And they hoped they found him.

The two men walked back from where they came with the boy on one of their broad shoulders. Moran had another knife hidden in his cloak, but the bowman hold him too tight to grab it and stab him in the neck.

He had to come with them and search for a way to get out of the place they were bringing him to. There was no other way to escape.

After a long walk they entered a keep. There were flags waving on the walls, but Moran didn't need those flags to know where he was brought to. The snowy ground made a lot of sound while the two men walked over it.

They now were inside the walls of Winterfell of house Stark. Moran was brought straight to the dark cold dungeons. A doctor came to do something about the wound, but he was continuously guarded by two men. Two other men, not the two who brought him there.

He passed out of the blood he lost, but the doctor was quick enough to save his life. A life they needed more than any of their men in the army.

 **Thank you for reading the first part of my Game of Thrones story. I hope you liked it and I would like to read your feedback.**

 **(This is the prologue to see if people want to read more or not. Longer chapters will follow if a lot of people want more of this.)**

 **SShady7**


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Moran woke up with a stinging pain in his leg. He found out that someone had cured the bite wound. Dark red blood was sticking to the ground, his legs and lower body in it.

The dead wolf was rotting in the same cell he was in. The smell was terrible. He didn't know why they left the animal behind, but it wasn't because they forgot. They tried to scare him to death. Not successful, but they tried.

It was early in the morning. He heard sounds coming from above. Heavy footsteps walking over the wooden floor upstairs. He followed the sound with his ears and thought there were at least three strong built men upstairs.

He looked at the wolf's corpse. The body was nothing more than a sack of guts and bones. All of the its blood was sticking to the ground.

He wanted to get out of the dungeon as quick as he could, but he couldn't walk. Chances were that he never came out before facing the king of Winterfell.

Again he heard the heavy footsteps, but this time they came from the small stairs. They were coming for him.

Three men stopped in front of his cell. One opened the door and the other two walked towards him. They grabbed him and lifted the small body of the wounded boy.

"The king wants to talk with you." said the oldest one through his small gray beard.

"I don't want to talk with him." protested the boy, shaking his body to loosen the tight grip of the men.

"We don't care about what you want." said the man grinning.

As a joke, the two carrying men dropped him to the stone floor. He broke his nose when he hit the ground. Blood dripped from a wound inside the broken part of his face.

It was a hard and painful trip for the boy. The working chambers of the king were in the top of a small tower and the three men wanted to have some fun. He was dropped four more times.

The old man knocked on a damaged wooden door in a cold lonely hallway. A calm, but strong voice told them to come in. An armored guard opened the door for them.

The men dropped the boy one more time, in front of the king. The king couldn't laugh about it. Moran was a captive, but they needed him. There was no reason to give him more wounds than necessary.

"Put him on a chair." Eddard Stark said angrily.

The men did what their king told them. One moved a chair in front of the king's desk, the others settled the boy on it. They tied a rope around his arms and the back of the chair.

"Leave us alone." Stark commanded.

While bowing for their king they left the room. Stark walked to the only window in the room and watched what happened outside. Two fourteen year old boys were having a fight over food. A fat boy was accused of stealing bread from the other one. Other kids stood around them, cheering for their favorite.

"How's your leg?" he asked the boy.

Moran refused to answer. He looked at the back of the man. Stark didn't try to intimidate him. He wanted a normal conversation. But the boy only wanted to leave, without telling anything.

"How's your leg?" Stark asked again, with a more compelling voice.

"Worse than yours." Moran answered. He noticed the king had a small hitch in his right leg when he walked to the window. The leg was healing from a long cut across the knee he obtained on a deer hunt.

"You know why you're here?" Stark asked, ignoring what Moran said.

"Because I walked in the woods."

Eddard Stark turned around, laughing at the boy. He noticed the blood under his nose and wondered what happened. He didn't ask anything about it, but was sure his men were the cause.

"You're here because we need you for some missions." said Stark.

"I don't work for kings and their noble families." Moran lied. He worked for everyone if they paid them enough. But he hated noble families more than anyone else.

When he was two years old, his father was taken away from his family to join the army. In his first battle he died with an arrow in the chest. His mother never came back after a week of work in the kitchens of Casterly Rock. He never found out what happened to her, but he knew it wasn't anything good.

He wanted revenge over the Lannisters who did this to his parents. He vowed to kill every single Lannister in the whole wide world. But his hate of noble families grew when he aged.

"What if I pay you?" Stark asked with the same compelling voice he used earlier.

Moran shook his head slowly from the left to the right. The sun rose and blinded him. He tried to turn the chair around. Stark smiled. If the boy suffered enough, he would do what he asked him.

After few more hopeless tries to convince him, he called his guards in. He told them to bring the executioner to one of his other rooms in the same hallway. If the boy didn't want to help, he had to die. He was a danger. If he released the boy, he and his family would be dead in less than a week.

He left Moran alone in the room, tied to his chair with old cutting ropes. Red welts were visible on his skin. Every move burned his arms.

His throwing knife was taken from him, but his cloak was too. He had no knives to cut himself to freedom and leave the castle unseen. He would be gone before anyone noticed.

After half an hour, Stark entered his room again. He startled when he noticed the chair was gone. Looking around, he noticed the chair in the corner. Moran was still sitting on it, with the ropes around him. He moved away from the sunlight.

The executioner halted in the door opening. His sword of death was dangling in a black patterned scabbard mounted to an even more black belt around his somewhat fat belly.

"I give you one last opportunity. The mission or your head?" the king asked, he was almost one hundred percent sure the boy would accept the mission.

Moran smiled at the king.

"Take my head."

 **Thank you all for reading the prologue. Even though I heard no one yet to continue, I really want to go on, no matter what.**

 **So this was the second part of my story. It's again not that long, but I will write as much as I can for a story without taking the tension away.**

 **In the first part I forgot to mention everything and everyone I use, are belongings of George R.R. Martin. Except for Moran and some characters that will come in later parts of the story.**

 **Anything that looks the same as something from the books or the series (or another fan fiction) is coincidence. I would never "steal" someone's work.**

 **Again, thank you!**

 **SShady7**


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

He was closer to his death than ever before. His stubbornness made the decision to not accept the mission. He had enough skill to vanish and never finish the mission. Even when Stark's men came searching for him, he was able to keep out of their dirty hands.

But now his head would be chopped of like a slice of bread. The whole population in a wide radius would come to the city to see it. It was one of the few types of entertainment they had.

The execution was the same day as the death sentence. When the sun was at its highest.

He was thrown back into his cell. The smell of rotten flesh made him vomit in the corner of the cell. In the cell across the hallway sat a man. He sat on his knees, eyes closed like he was praying.

Moran ignored him. He had to create an escape plan. It had to happen before he stepped on stage. The moment between the guards opening the door and bringing him back outside was the best time to do his plan.

He knew a way to kill the guards. He ripped a bone out of the dead wolf and broke it in two equal parts. Sharp enough to slit their throats, small enough to hide in the clothes that weren't taken from him. It wasn't much, but he had to do anything he could.

The sun kept rising. People gathered together on the large square that was located in front of the palace. Market vendors grabbed their chance to make a lot of money by lowering their prices a tiny bit. They sold double more stuff than they did on normal market days.

The executioner sat on stage, polishing his sword with a dirty cloth and a small grindstone to sharpen the blade. Over his head he had a black mask with holes for the eyes. There was no hole to breathe through.

Inside the palace, Eddard Stark had a conversation with his children. He didn't want the youngest ones to come to the uneasy moment, but they made sure their dad would take them with him.

Stark's eldest son, Robb Stark, was one of the two men who captured Moran. The other one was his friend Theon Greyjoy. He carried the boy back to the castle.

"I don't want you to come. You will get nightmares." Eddard Stark said with an angry voice to his youngest children.

"Let them watch, Ned. They have to know what it's like. For the future." his wife Catelyn said with a soft motherly voice.

"I don't want it." Stark shouted at his wife.

"And you are not the one to decide. I take them with me to watch." Catelyn smiled.

Far underneath them, Moran was working on the last details of his plan. He had to get out of the keep without being noticed. If someone warned the guards, his plan failed. It was necessary to be outside the walls when someone found out he was gone.

But what if his plan failed and he was brought to the scaffold. It would be the end of his life and he would fail the vow to kill every Lannister he could find.

Anxiety took over every feeling in his body. He wanted to live until he was old. He wanted a beautiful life after fulfilling his vow. Travelling the world was his biggest dream. Meeting new types of people, learning about other cultures.

A life like that wasn't possible without his head.

Again the guards walked down the stairs with their heavy feet. They opened the door the same way as they did earlier. With intimidating looks they helped Moran on his feet.

He was able to walk, but it was at mesmerizing speed.

"Faster, or I chop your head of right here." one of them said with a grin on his battle scarred face.

He had to kill the three men, now or never. He let the broken bone slip into his right hand and waited for the perfect moment.

When one of the three closed the door of his cell, he grabbed his chance. He stabbed the two men carrying him to death by piercing their throats and lungs. They suffered a painful dead.

Only the man with the keys of the door was left. He saw what the boy did and took his knife from his belt. He was almost too late to dodge a deadly stab from the boy. He wanted to stick the bone through his sternum.

The man laughed. He could handle the boy with ease. At least he thought he could. After a few random stabs towards the boy, his eye got pierced by the bone.

A loud scream echoed through the hallway. But no one noticed the hard noise.

Moran stabbed the last man to death so he could leave without living witnesses. When they found the three men dead, he would be gone.

"Get me out." a voice from across the hallway said softly.

A woman sat down in front of the bars of her cell. She was around forty years old, but she looked younger. Her hair was dirty. Her eyes red of crying and dust. Her skin darkened by the same dust.

Moran looked at her. He wanted to, but then he had to help her with escaping the keep. He couldn't afford being spotted because of her. He had to leave her.

The bone was red from all the blood. He looked at the red substance. He threw the bone into her cell, followed by the dropped keys. She could go alone if she still wanted to. The bone could be her weapon.

He walked to the door of the dungeons. He strangled the last guard to dead using his bare hands. He didn't hide the body. He only took his knife and money.

The streets around the square were filled with people. But they would never see Moran's head being chopped off. He walked into the shadows of the walls. He slipped past the lone guard guarding the gate.

He followed the wall to the forest side and left Winterfell. He would come back when he finished his vow. Important things first. But he needed to buy his clothes and weapons again. It would take some time until he was ready again. Ready to end the Lannisters.

 **Again thanks for everyone who read my first two parts of the story. This is again not a long chapter, but I think it's going to be a lot of small chapters instead of the long chapters.**

 **Please review any mistakes I made or if you want to give commentary about the story.**

 **Thank you!**

 **Ramon**

 **(The world, creatures and characters are all George Martin's. I only own Moran and some coming characters.)**


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

A year was gone since Moran was in Winterfell. A nasty disease struck him and forced him to stay inside for six months until he started to train his condition again.

He got ill when he was on his way to a small town where they sold weapons of high quality. The son of a farmer found him sitting next to a tree, wet and sick. He took him to the farm to give the boy some rest. After a few days of being in the same condition, the farmer wanted him out, but he couldn't do it because the gods would never forgive them for not helping a sick and innocent boy.

Moran now worked for the farmer. He fed the animals and helped him with everything. It was a good way to grow muscles for later.

The family consisted of four members. The farmer himself, his wife, his son and his daughter.

Moran woke up. His body felt cold. His head ached. It was early in the night. He rolled over to his other side and fell asleep again.

In the early morning he woke up for another hard day of work. They had to slaughter a cow today. Moran would go to the market today to sell the meat or trade it for other goods.

It wasn't a hard job anymore. Every one of them had slaughtered a cow more than once at this moment of their lives.

They cut the meat from the carcass, packed it in clean clothes with salt and after that stacked it on a wheelbarrow.

Moran went back inside, to his room. He took the knife he stole from a Winterfell guard during his escape and hid it in his left boot. He had enough experience with robbers on the market to decide to take the knife with him.

"See you tonight." the farmer said to Moran. The boy lifted the wheelbarrow and walked away.

Rainy clouds were filling the sky. He had to be fast to get a covered stall. Otherwise they were taken and the meat would get wet. Nobody wanted wet meat.

He got into a fist fight about the last covered stand with a heavy man. Moran got smashed through the stand. It was broken in pieces and both had nothing to cover their goods.

Moran started trading very quick. He sold a few pieces of meat for gold, but traded some of it for other types of food, like lettuce, carrots and potatoes. They grew lettuce themselves, but the last harvest was unsuccessful.

He got home after a long day. A severe thunderstorm started at the end of the day when he had only two pieces of cow meat left.

His back hurt like someone continuously stuck a burning sword in his back. He probably bruised something in his back.

He had taken off his damaged coat and covered all the new goods with it. Water dripped through the holes, but it stopped the most water from ruining the vegetables.

Darkness fell when he arrived at the farm. Lights were burning inside the house. The family was waiting for him to start dinner. He store everything away at the right place, before he entered the house.

"You're finally there. You're late." the farmer's wife said.

"The weather." Moran said tired. He sat down next to their daughter.

"Everything stored away?" the farmer asked.

Moran nodded.

At the start of the dinner, someone banged on the door. The farmer opened the door and asked angrily what they wanted while doing so. He was shocked when he saw local guards standing in front of him.

"Good evening. What can I do for you?" he asked with shaking legs, followed by a small bow.

"Do you have any sons between the ages of sixteen and twenty five living in your house?" one of the guards asked him.

The other one looked around the farmer to see if he was lying or not. But he couldn't see anything than a closed wooden door.

"Yes, I do. Is there a problem with him? Has he done something against the law?" the farmer asked with a trembling voice.

"He has to join the army."

The farmer almost fell from what he heard. His only son had to join the army. He got an idea in his head. But the guards had to agree with it.

"How many does the king want?" asked the farmer with a soft voice.

"One per household." the other guard answered. His voice was angry, they were not interested in long conversations.

"I can give you another boy. He works for me. But please don't take my son from me." the farmer said with tears in his old brown eyes.

"One boy. We don't care if he's family or not." the second guard said.

"He has to be ready tomorrow. You can tell him the news yourself." the first guard said.

Both men walked away from the farm and went on to the next family on their road. The farmer closed the door behind him. He smiled. Moran was the perfect replacement for his own son.

"Moran, can I talk to you alone for a moment?" the farmer asked compulsory.

"Who was at the door, honey?" his wife asked him. He ignored her.

Moran rose from his chair and walked outside with the farmer. When outside, the farmer started the conversation.

"I won't talk around it. You are joining the army. Guards were at the door and every family has to send one boy if they have one. I hope you understand I can't send my own son, so you are his replacement. You go tomorrow." the farmer said.

Moran's eyes grew from disgust. He understood why he didn't want to send his own son, but he felt like the man was his father. He betrayed him instead of betraying his real son. He understood what the man did, but his chances to stay away from the war were ruined now.

Everybody was silent at the dinner table. Moran only focused on his plate.

When he was done, he stood up and walked away. His room was the place he wanted to be. He needed time to think about what was told to him.

Thoughts ran through his head. Scary thoughts. Dying with a spear in his chest or an arrow in the stomach. His head sliced off with a sword or his face shattered by a mace.

He always was the one who killed, but in a war he couldn't use his special abilities. Everybody could see he him on the battlefield. He usually worked without anyone knowing he was around them.

He looked outside through a window, straight into the darkness. He had no idea what to do. He had to go this night, but how? The farmer usually slept on his wooden chair in the living room. And the man woke up very easy.

The rain from earlier that day started again. Raindrops fell through the holes in the roof and hit the ground, his bed or even him.

He scratched the giant scar on his leg. A memory shot through his head. The memory of the wolf that bit him. The day before he was about to die.

And at that moment, the perfect idea came into his head. He could leave through the window. It wasn't high from the ground. The grass would muffle the fall. It was the only way to escape from the hell he was supposed to go to.

At midnight, he decided to leave the family that took care of him for the last year. He took nothing from them. He packed his stuff in a sack normally used for carrots.

He dropped himself out of the window into the wet grass. With the sack in his hands he walked away from the farm. And he never came back.

 **Thanks for reading the fourth part of my story! Personally I feel like this will be one of the less parts, but I hope you like it. More action is coming soon.**

 **I will try to upload one chapter a week, on Saturday. It won't be less, but may be more sometimes!**

 **Thanks again!**

 **Ramon**

 **(The world, creatures and characters are all George Martin's. I only own Moran, some nameless side characters and some coming characters.)**


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Travelling from town to town, he got his equipment back. It took more than a month, but he was almost ready to go now. Ready to restart his Lannister hunt.

The equipment was not from the best quality, but he had not enough money to buy special made stuff. He also bought a new cloak. Dark blue and especially made to hide in the darkness.

In a big town, almost a city, he met a man who wanted the Lannisters dead more than Moran himself. Moran wished he could take the man with him to fulfil the job together, but the man was too fat to travel without getting tired after an hour.

The man understood his reasons and invited him for dinner. His wife made chicken. They were not rich, but it gave a cozy feeling when you entered.

The walls and floor were painted in the same dark red. The simple furniture was made from dark wood.

They were the parents of a seven year old girl. The girl was sleeping already. She had an incurable disease.

"What's the reason you hate the Lannisters even more than me?" Moran asked the man.

"Eight years ago they sent soldiers to all nearby cities and towns. Just to take random children as a warning. They slaughtered them inside the throne room of King's Landing. My son of ten was one of them." the man said.

His face turned red from anger and he threw his plate towards the wall. It shattered into shards. His wife stood up and lay his arms around him, kissing his head to calm him down.

Moran just ate his chicken. He wasn't mad about the man's reaction. It was normal in his eyes. He lost a son, like the farmer did when the guards found out there was no other boy.

But the farmer had a different mindset. Instead of wanting the army dead, he killed himself by drinking pure poison he bought on the black market. His body was never found.

After a silent night, he left the man and his wife. He thanked them for the dinner. She nodded, he kept silent.

He slept under his cloak in one of the dirty streets the town had. Nobody saw him because he was completely hidden underneath the cloak.

He could see silhouettes through the fabric. Silhouettes of robbers who went to the pub in the middle of the night. To share information about rich families or steal from their colleagues. Most of the time it was the stealing.

Thieves liked to steal, but they got the most pleasure by stealing from other thieves. It was like being on the battlefield and killing a general. The pub was their battlefield and thieves were the generals.

In the early morning he woke up, wet from the rain that fell while he was asleep. His cloak was drenched. In the beginning it withstood most of the water, but after some time it became too much to handle for the cloak.

He left the alley, back to the decent people that were in the main street of the city. People in normal clothes, but also some farmers in dirty old clothes.

It was a boring day. He couldn't leave the city because the smith was making three knives for him. Two were done already, but he ruined the last one by dropping it in the fire when it was done. He had to remake the last one. Moran paid good for it, so he expected high quality for his gold.

He searched for information about the Lannisters because he got closer to King's Landing every day. He learned nothing from the people in the city. Everyone said the Lannisters were good people and that Joffrey Baratheon was the best king they ever had.

He went to a tavern for the night. While having dinner, some big guys entered the pub part of the tavern. They forced the barmaid to give them all a pint of beer. For free. She first refused to give them the beer for nothing, but when two of the four men grabbed a short knife, she chose free beer over her life.

Moran looked at the men for the rest of the night while eating mashed potatoes with some chicken. When he finished his meal, he brought the plate back to the barmaid.

Her small face was pale. Her body was shaking. The men almost scared her to death by pulling out the knives.

He turned around, leaning on the bar. He looked straight into the dark eyes of the biggest man.

"Mind your own business." he grunted through his grey beard.

Moran didn't move.

"You want me to poke your eyes out, little boy?"

"Try me." Moran smiled. He was being stupid again. His mind told him he could handle four full grown men with knives, but of course he couldn't.

The man got up from his wooden stool and grabbed his knife from his belt. He walked fast. In one movement he tried to stab the boy into the eye, but he missed. A long cut was made on the cheek. Blood spread across Moran's face.

He got punched in the stomach and fell on the ground. A man in a corner got up and took his stool in his hands to smash on the man's head, but he got knocked out by one of the other three.

The barmaid ran into the backroom, scared for her own life. Moran almost got killed by the man. He was swung over the bar and the man slammed a bottle on his head, knocking him out cold.

He woke up after three days in a cold small bed. His body hurt. He fell something on his face. It was the scar from the cutting wound on his cheek. The eye closest to the scar was bruised because it got hit by the right fist of the aggressive man. On his head he had a huge bump from the bottle. Two ribs were broken. An old bandage was around his chest on the height of the broken bones.

Moran tried to get up, but the pain was too much to move. He made a rough noise. The barmaid ran in.

"You're awake!" she screamed excited.

"Where am I?" Moran asked.

"In one of the rooms we have here. The room you rented a few days ago."

"What happened to me? Why do I have so much wounds and pain?"

"You got into a fight with some drunk men. And you lost." she said a little sad.

"How long have I been asleep?" he asked, his mind remembering him of something important.

"Three days, why?" the barmaid said.

"I got to go. There are important things that have to be done." he said. He got up, but his head turned him back on his back.

"You can't leave now. You have no strength. The things you are thinking about can be done later, I'm sure." she said.

"No, it has to be done. War is coming, and at that point I have to be far away from here." Moran said with an angry look on his harmed face.

"But you aren't going to be a part of that war, right?" she asked. She got nervous from everything he said.

"If I leave, I won't. But you are getting me into this war with keeping me here."

"So you just want to leave the country?" she asked, her nervousness lowering.

"After I killed the king."

 **Like always, thanks for reading my story!**

 **This part is a little late, but I have my reasons for that. (having a hard week of school and being sick at the same time is not that much fun)**

 **Everything created by George Martin is HIS, not mine. I only own my own characters and stuff.**

 **Leave a review or send me a personal message if you want to say anything (and I mean anything).**

 **See you later!**

 **Ramon**


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The barmaid convinced Moran to stay for one more night to make sure he had a little more strength when he left. But when he woke up, she was nowhere to be found.

Her daughter was running the tavern until she came back. He staggered down the stairs in nothing more than some too wide simple trousers made for sleep.

He sat down on a small chair in the backroom. The daughter made some quick breakfast for him. Two pieces of loaf with some goat cheese they made from the milk of their own goat. It didn't taste good, but he couldn't show it was gross. They took care of a wounded customer. Something he could never pay them back for.

He got up too quick and his view went black. He sat down again, waiting until the darkness was gone and got up slow this time. He gave the plate back to the barmaid's daughter and thanked her.

"Where is your mother?" he asked with a cracked voice.

"She told me she had to deliver a message to someone." the daughter said cryptic.

"What kind of message to who?" he asked. He wanted to know every single detail.

"I can't tell, it's secret." she said, rolling her eyes while getting a plate with breakfast ready for a veteran of the King's Guard who was counting his days until his last day.

"I need to know. I told her secret information yesterday. If the wrong ears hear that, I'm done. I will be dead before I can leave the tavern." he said nervously. He was almost sure her mother went to King's Landing to tell someone important what he said about killing the king. All of his plans were ruined every time. A thought about crossing the sea to start a new life ran through his harmed head. Doing so would mean he could never fulfil his vow to the gods. He had to change who he was and forget about taking revenge.

He took one of the new knives from his belt. She didn't notice his movement. She was too busy making more breakfast for other guests.

He asked her to come with him to the backroom, slightly showing the knife. Her brain wanted to run, but that was like choosing to die. She knew the boy was not afraid to use the deadly weapon.

She went first, he followed her and closed the door.

"Where is your mother going? Or where is she right now?" Moran asked. He was playing with the knife to make the girl nervous.

"She is on the back of a horse." she answered.

Moran smiled, but twirled the knife around in his hand to scare her. He would get the needed information out of her. But it had to happen quick. Her mother came closer to her goal every second.

"And where is this horse going?"

"To a castle."

"King's Landing. And what is she going to do there?" he asked, already knowing it.

She didn't answer his question, but he walked out of the room. Not that fast due to his wounds.

He got back on the streets after he got all his goods from his room. He searched for the stalls to buy or even steal a horse. It didn't come to the point of stealing, but he lost too much time negotiating about the price to rent the animal.

It was a long way to King's Landing. When he passed the last town on the road to the castle, he got attacked by some bandits. He fought them and won with the help of the horse. The horse kicked one bandit in the stomach and almost killed him. Moran stabbed the other two bandits to death. He didn't want any witnesses, so he slit the last one's throat and burned the bodies. The smoke drew the attention of the city, but Moran was gone when a local soldier noticed the gray clouds.

He travelled long and was tired when he arrived at King's Landing. Getting past the guards was the first problem. They didn't let people in that easily anymore since a man got in and murdered three innocent people before he got shot with an arrow.

"What is your reason for coming here?" an experienced guard asked him. He was arrogant and grumpy. He was the owner of a long scar on the forehead.

"A family member of mine arrived here today. She is waiting for me." Moran lied. He lost precious time again.

"What is her name?" the guard asked. Moran didn't know her name. She never told him. So he improvised some kind of story.

"I have been out for the last days and I woke up tomorrow. I lost my memory. I only know she's here is because her daughter told me."

"We give you a choice because we are good men and you are obviously lying. Leave or die."

Moran looked further into the great city. There were too many guards to handle. He could handle the two in front of him, but he saw at least ten other armed soldiers.

The boy turned around and got back on his horse. He rode back to the forest he came from to turn around again and travel to the blind side of the wall. He tried to climb over the wall, but failed. He rode away again, to one of the other gates. He luckily found an unguarded gate and entered the city.

He stood in front of the Red Keep. The guards at its gate were a lot friendlier. If he passed the guards at the gates, he was likely into nothing bad. They couldn't be more wrong.

"I have an appointment with the king." he said to them. They let him in. He was led to the throne room. There he sat, on the Iron Throne. King Joffrey with his arrogant face and blond hair. And he was talking with no one less than the barmaid.

"That's him! He wants to kill you!" she screamed out loud when she saw who entered the Great Hall.

Moran's face turned white. The Kingsguard surrounded the boy when they heard what the woman shouted. Seven men in golden armor and white cloaks grabbed their swords.

King Joffrey kept silent and looked at the boy with a vicious smile. If it was true what the woman said, he had to die. A painful death. But Moran would not give up that easy.

He was disarmed in eleven seconds. His hands tied on his back, knives taken away from him. He sat on his knees in front of the king.

"Why would you kill your great king?" Joffrey asked.

"Why would you believe a barmaid?" Moran answered.

"How do you know she is a barmaid?"

Moran already said too much. But he still tried to look as innocent as possible.

"On my way to you, I slept in her tavern in one of the cities I crossed. She might have confused me with someone else. That's what I think." Moran never talked to royal families using the words _my lord_ and _my lady_. All because of his hate against them.

"A dungeon will fit as a new bed for the next days. In the meanwhile I will consider the different ways to execute you."

 **Thanks to all the readers… as usual ;)**

 **Ramon**


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Two cloaked members of the Kingsguard took Moran to the deepest dungeon the Red Keep had available for someone who wanted to kill the king. They chained his leg with the bite scar to the wall.

Waiting for his death, Moran sat in a dark, humid corner of the dungeon under the ground. There were no torches. He couldn't see anything around him.

He closed his eyes to sleep, but he wasn't tired. His body was filled with adrenaline. Escaping Winterfell was easy, but escaping King's Landing was close to impossible. Only if the king didn't kill him, he could live on. But Joffrey was not going to do that. He wanted traitors like Moran death, before they started a rebellion against him.

Joffrey sat on his throne, talking with his mother and uncle about a fitting judgment.

"Just chop his head off. Quick and easy." Cersei said to her son.

"The people want to see something entertaining. They won't be satisfied with a decapitation this time." Jaime said to his sister.

"Torture him to death? Quarter him? Give some suggestions if you don't like mine." Cersei answered. Her face turned slightly red.

"What about a fair fight with the Mountain?" Joffrey said smiling. That was something he would like to see and he bet his people would like to see it too.

"Fighting with the Mountain is never fair. But it'll be absolutely brilliant. Great idea!" Cersei laughed.

"The boy must be given the right to choose his armor and weapons to fight. At least give him a challenge before he dies." Jaime said, not smiling like his cousin and sister.

He thought his nephew made the wrong decision. Joffrey was not able to prove the boy was about to kill him.

"Tomorrow morning when the sun rises you can bring him to the armory. Let him choose there. When the sun goes down, the fight will happen. Inform Clegane for me, mother." Joffrey said. He couldn't wait for the fight.

It was a long time since a fight like this happened. Joffrey thought about the last fight. It was some nameless man who was sentenced to death like Moran. His head was ripped of his body in three minutes.

Moran slept surprisingly well in the dark dungeon. Jaime Lannister woke him up, but not the hard way. He just shook his shoulder and said it was time to get his weapon and armor.

Moran wanted to choke the man to death before the fight happened, but he was surrounded by four guards. One misstep and he was dead already. Jaime was part of the Kingsguard himself and he had a scary nickname. The man was called the Kingslayer. He earned the nickname by killing the king he was supposed to be defending. Aerys II Targaryen was murdered on the steps in front of the Iron Throne. Dry blood was still visible on those steps. Some of it was never removed. Even if there were no other guards, Moran doubted if he would be able to strangle the man into a never ending sleep.

"You have one hour to choose your armor and weapons." Jaime said, when they entered the armory.

Moran turned his face to the high quality stuff inside the armory. He saw all kinds of weapons and armor. From heavy axes to small knives. Normally he would have taken the knives, but he knew the man he was facing. A huge man with a broadsword. He had to use something bigger than knives.

After a long thinking session, he decided to use a light sword and a long knife as backup. His armor was nothing more than some bracelets and light armor to defend his chest and legs. He had to move quickly if he wanted to have a small chance against the monster.

When the hour was over, Jaime Lannister got up from his chair and told him his time was up.

Moran spent the time between the armory and the battle on the pitch he would face his opponent. It was his own wish. Guarded by two men and Jaime himself, he warmed up and checked his surroundings. He thought about some tricks he could pull off to finish the fight quick. Some rocks which were used as decoration could be used as platforms to jump on and get higher. Another trick was luring the man to the wall and let him fall over by stepping away at the right time. Tricky, but possible ways to kill the man.

The sun was going down. The fight was about to start. The Mountain looked at the crowd from the side. He was not amused. The only thing that made him fight the boy was the chance to kill someone. He raped and killed people for fun.

Every person in the crowd was cheering for the heavy armored monster, swinging his long sword in the last light of today's sun.

Grand Maester Pycelle entered the battlefield to announce everything that had to be announced. He called the two fighters towards him and gave some side information about the rules. There was one simple rule. One of them had to die to end the fight.

When the king wanted the fight to start, he yelled a few simple words. The Mountain and Moran started their deathly dance with each other.

 **First of all I want to apologize. Apologize for the time it took me to write this short part of the story. I had a few hard weeks on school because of a project. Right afterwards the flu hit me.**

 **Thanks again for the support and energy you give me to keep going, without all of you, I would never have come so far.**

 **See you in the next chapter (which may take some time too because of exams -_-)**

 **Ramon.**


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